Little Angel's Adventure CSI
by amberle-elvengrl
Summary: Hope is a shoulder guardian who is sent (cause the cat) into the tv show CSI


Hey all, this is Amberle here. This is a beginning of stories (that will appear in different places categories) of my Roll Playing character whose name is Hope, adventures through TV Shows, music, books and movies. So if u have any suggestion e-mail me or review please. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Little Angel's adventures (CSI Adventure 1)  
  
A small woman, with black hair, ice blue eyes, cream skin and pale blue wings wearing white short and a black tank top that said angle, sat on the arm of the recliner in her friends David's home. Her name was Hope. She was David's Shoulder guardian. So she says at least. She was currently hiding from the cat and decided to watch some TV. (Just to let you all know, Hope is about the size of a Fairy) She jumps on the remote to change the channel to see if her show is on. Luckily it was. CSI had just come on. "Yeah, I get to watch Grissom in peace without David talking through the whole thing. What luck." Just as she is about to settle down, the cat leaps up into the chair. "AHHHHHHHH" Hope yelled as she is thrown off the arm, into the air, and smack in to the TV. The strange thing is, she didn't stop falling when she hit the TV. She went into the screen. Forgetting she had wings she went plummeting towards the ground and landed with a thud and a sick squishy sound.  
  
Hope sat up and rubbed her little head. She was covered in some icky red stuff. She sniffed it and gasped. It was blood. Suddenly feeling sick and dizzy Hope tried to drag her little body out of the puddle when cop cars and ambulances came flying up out of nowhere. Hope's eyes widen in shock and stair at the car wheel in front of her. She laughed nervously and fainted, falling back into the puddle of blood.  
  
A black Chevy Tahoe pulled up to the scene. "So Brass, what have we got " Say the man stepping out of the vehicle. "Well, Grissom, it a boy who looks to be in his late 20's or so, gunshot wound to the chest, legs and arms and what appears to be a Barbie beside him." "Has anyone touched anything." Brass shook his head "No way, not were the body was found. Beside the dumpster. Glade today isn't garbage day." "Indeed. Nick, you check for footprints, Sara, you check for the bullets. I'll check out the vic " The two other CSI grab their kits and walk over to Grissom. "So got a gun shot victim. "The tall brown/blond haired woman said. "Yeah, Sara, I want you to watch carefully. The bullets can be anywhere." Sara nods her head and set off the work.  
  
Hope opened her eyes and came gulped as two men were walking her way. The man with gloves bent down and picked her up. Her heart started racing when he went to put her in a plastic bag. "WAIT..I'M NOT DEAD, DON'T YOU DARE PUT ME IN THAT EVIDENCE BAG. HEEEELPPPP MEEEE!" she screamed causing the man to almost drop her. Regaining the ability to move she flew up only to have a shocking pain go through out her left wing and shoulder. "Aww man I must have broken it when I fell. Stupid cat when I get home I'm eating cat for supper." The two men gawked at her for a moment before the one with glasses cleared his throat. "What are you?" his eyes asked. Hope blinked and suddenly squealed "Your Gil Grissom, Right?" Grissom nodded his head. Hope smiled and landed on his gloved hand, which was still held out from where he picked her up. "I'm Hope. I'm a Shoulder Guardian. I protect David, but his stupid cat made me fly through the TV causing my power to probably send me here." Grissom just raised an eyebrow. Sara and Nick came walking up. "I found only one bullet and Nick found a few foot print other then that, that's all we got so far. "Sara said and turned her attention to Hope. "Hi "Hope said and waved at Sara. "Sara could you take her to the Lab, and see to her wing. Nick and I will meet you there." Grissom said while handing her to Sara. "Well come on, then. I'm Sure you'll like Greg." 


End file.
